Regarding Our Lives
by Dragon Kite
Summary: You couldn't see me and I couldn't hear you. What does music sound like? SxM AU


To a special person,

I don't think… there had ever been anything more exciting about my life than the past few months. It was so sudden. I never saw it coming. Even if I did, I wouldn't have stopped it. Regrets can't pull me back. Regrets can't tie me down to the anchor that's meant to drown me. It was meant to be, you and I. We filled in the parts of each other that had been missing for as long as we remembered. Your fingers weaved between mine perfectly. Mine weaved between yours just as well.

When I got this job, I didn't know what to expect. I didn't even know who I'd be working for. When I got that letter with the blue inked stamp, it was beautiful. Blue. I think I told you before, but it's the color of the sky. And colors have different shades, you know. It could be a dark blue, or a light blue. The sky's a light blue. Well, at least during the day, when the sun is _really_ high. But when it comes time to rest our heads upon each other's shoulder, the air is a deep purple with waves of rosy, warm colors that tail the sun. It's pretty. Trust me. That dark blue stamp… the instant I saw it, I filled with happiness. I ripped open the beige envelope. Lavender haired Chrona peered over my shoulder, slightly amazed at the intricate design of the stationary. I saw her smile. She has very white teeth, almost shinny against the light from the chandelier. She sat down across the table and said something with excitement, along with the usual gestures. "Open it! Open it!" She moved closer to me and repeated herself, making sure I saw her excitement.

I nodded, not saying anything. That would've been a waste of time. I needed every second and every ounce of energy to open that letter. Gosh, was I going mad? It was only a job. My first real job. And it was going to be so cool!

I hurriedly scanned the letter… the date I would start worked was printed in bold. Next Monday I would meet my assigned artist, meet the team, and set up my office. Then, on Tuesday, I would start my portfolio and by Friday, have ten designs completed and ready for evaluation. Another set of text in bold. My assigned artist. But to my disappointment, the printer ink had smeared there. Was that just fate playing games with us?

So I would have to wait until next Monday. Big deal. You know me. I didn't care who I'd be working with. Right? It doesn't matter for me. Singing doesn't matter to me. I judge singers by the looks on their faces on stage. Are they passionate? Are they loving every moment? Thus, the arrangements and the look of the performance always stunned me. It became an addiction. Chrona and I… we always watched live shows on one of the limited cable channels offered to us.

And Monday came along. Chrona guided me to the funky-looking building constructed with modern architecture. Chrona kept shielding her ears. I'm guessing the large amount of traffic made a lot of noise. Were they screeches? Or bangs or booms? Certainly, I couldn't tell.

The doorman slid the door open for us and must have said, "Good morning." I said it back. I followed my friend to the front desk and signed in. The lady at the desk said something. Chrona gestured to me, "She says she needs you to get your picture taken for your ID." I nodded and stood against the wall for the photographer to snap the still image of my face. The ID card printed out and was handed to me. Chrona said again, "Your office is on the fifth floor, down the hall, in room 506."

"Awesome!" I giggled, cramming myself into the elevator. Chrona pressed the number, and sent to elevator shooting upwards. Elevators were so much fun, weren't they? You had the choice of going up or down. And when you did go down, you could go back up again with the simple press of a button. They have a weird way of saying that there's always going to be a way to get to the highest floor. Even when you're stuck on the first.

We got to the fifth floor, the second highest floor in the wide complex, and a huge semi circle of couches lines up against the see-through acrylic walls. Several businessmen were sitting down having coffee and watching the news. And Mr. Waffer… you remember Mr. Waffer, right? The president of the record company, always hiding behind those masks. Remember what we called him? Mr. Shini. And the nickname stuck for a very long time. He was such a generous man. Anyways, he instantly saw us as we passed by him. He got up and shook my hand.

I saw his lips, "Good morning, Miss Albarn." He nodded his head, then said something to Chrona. Chrona nodded and gestured to me that I didn't need her anymore. Gosh, and I kind of panicked. But when Mr. Shini began to sign for me, I grinned. At least my boss was considerate enough to try to learn some basic sign language for me.

Chrona left. I followed Mr. Shini to office room 506. I could never figure out how to get there on my own. But you knew the way by heart. Is that why you paid regular visits? To show off your directional skills? Not to say I didn't have any. I'm surprised you never bumped into any walls. Until the past week. I had to take your hand and guide you through the maze of offices. I once saw you almost cry. Why? Why did you have to cry? Whenever you cried, I had to cry too, you know. It wasn't cool for such a cool guy like you.

I remember first walking into that room of mine. Big and spacey with contemporary furniture and a nice view of Shibusen Park. You were at my desk, sitting on my swirly chair with your Conversed feet crossed on my desk. Your spiky blank white hair swayed from the air blasting through the air conditioning. Your redish brown eyes blinked when you heard me. I remember that look of disappointment and disgust. Were my breasts really not that big enough for you? What am I thinking - as if you knew at the time. And you had that nasty little cigarette in your mouth. Disgusting. I'm sure you remember that.

But at the time, my mind had collapsed. Here, sitting at my desk, was the most famous singer at that time. Soul Eater. I was almost getting ready to squeal like a fan girl. I'm glad I didn't. That would've been very embarrassing for me. Not that I knew how you sang, obviously. But like I've told you in the past, you were the most passionate singer I'd ever seen.

You began to talk but my eyes were focused on your eyes, rather than your lips. They seemed to be glowing red, but with a hint of distrust. Not completely red. Almost, though. You tapped impatiently on the desk, waiting for me to reply, when honestly, I had no intention to.

I turned around. Mr. Shini had left. Maybe he told me and I didn't know? I wasn't quite sure what was going on. Suddenly, I felt lost. I needed someone to communicate with. Unsure, I said to you in a hoarse voice, "Good Morning."

Oh God. Then, you threw yourself back in the chair and – I saw it – you asked me, "Did you not hear what I just said?" No, Soul. I never got to know what you greeted me with. I never saw the words spoken from your mouth. I was too focused on your mysterious eyes. Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong not to be privileged with the sense of capacity? Well, you of all people would know the feeling. Of lack. Right? Am I right? We all lack something in this world.

But that doesn't hold us back.

So I sat down at the opposite side of my desk without replying. You said, "Not cool."

After I spent a few seconds analyzing your lip motions, I sarcastically replied, "Is it too hot in here, Mr. Soul Eater?"

Then, you did something I never expected. You got up and leaned your body across my bare desk and clasped your hands around my head, pulling me close to your face. And gosh, I thought you were going to kiss me or something! I remember my heart speeding up. I had no clue what in God's name you were doing. But you held my face to yours. Just centimeters away. Your eyes darted around, then squinted into mine. I'll never forget it. In that moment, we saw each other's lives, and read them as easily as books. I'm not exactly sure what you saw in me. But I'm sure I saw your eyes. Loneliness, guilt, forgiveness, jealousy, trapped emotions, topped off with sprinkles of anger. I bit my lower lip. Too hard.

You brought your lips in front of my eyes, and said slowly, "You might want to consider… a change of job."

Then you simply left my office.

I almost cried. At that time, I thought you didn't understand. Big celebrities who always got what they want never understood people. If you could understand us "common folk", how could you have understood me? But the again, at that same time, it was me who didn't understand you. But I didn't shed a tear. You didn't deserve a tear. That was a relief. You didn't deserve them, so why waste them?

So thanks to you, I had to figure everything out by myself. Where the supplies were located, how to get to your office, how to turn in the Daily Report, how to turn on the air conditioning, and what phone numbers to call for models. That was a pain in my ass, once again, thanks to you. You could've at least shown me how to turn on the foot massager under my desk! I never got to use it…

You came back two days later. I was working on your tuxedo for the Midnight Plaza concert in two Saturdays. With that cigarette in your mouth. It got me so pissed, I attempted to yank it from your mouth. I failed. "Look, I am your stylist, and this is my office!" I stood up and pounded the table. It hurt, to be honest. "I will _not_ tolerate smoking in my office or around my personal space!"

You didn't even bother to reply. You just sighed. That was when I knew you had figured it out. You were a smart cookie, and I should have given you more credit for it. You picked up my rough drawing, though. Held that up to your eyes, too. You had a habit of squinting. And you sighed again, sadly speaking to yourself. You put down the paper. But you stared into space, as if I wasn't even in front of you. You spoke again. Then you tried to reach up to take your cigarette out of your mouth.

But on the way, you touched my boob. You smirked. I squealed.

"MAAAAAAKA CHOOOOP!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, crashing my pencil set onto your head. I saw you open your mouth wide and gasp for breath. And that was how the 'Maka Chop' was born. And I can't count how many times you insulted me about my small boobs since then. The popular ones were 'Pancake Chest', 'Flatboard'… oh… and we can't forget your favorite… 'Tiny-tits'. Was that one word, or two? Doesn't matter. It was an annoying word to my eyes. And every time I saw it, your eyes turned redder.

But that was trivial compared to what you did to me next.

Until next time,

Maka Albarn


End file.
